


Death rides to Gondolin.

by hennethgalad



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23205016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: The elves of Vinyamar move to Gondolin.18: "Because I could not stop for deathHe kindly stopped for meThe carriage held but just ourselvesAnd immortality".Emily Dickinson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3
Collections: Back to Middle-earth Month 2020: Endings and Beginnings





	Death rides to Gondolin.

My dears, the most awful thing happened, on the way here. I was riding in the very first carriage, with lady Aredhel, who insisted on holding the reins herself. The guard did not seem to mind, they were playing Towers in the back, amid much mirth, naturally, for on a moving carriage, the mere idea of playing Towers is absurd. Especially a carriage drawn by my Sámo and Aredhel's Faron! Of course, almost every beast in Vinyamar had been taught to endure the harness, and even then, many poor elves had to pull wagons themselves.   
It was quiet, of course, King Turgon having gone to all that trouble to clear the path. The idea of waiting until Finrod was exercising his army in the field, and encouraging the High King to join in was marvellously clever, really, I do admire Turgon. His courage at the loss of lovely Elenwë, whom we all adored, is an example to us all.  
But not only were the armies of the north ensuring that nothing nasty bothered us, but the King had had his people encourage (with lavish gifts and promises) every singer, musician and dancer in Beleriand to ride north to entertain the troops. And then his people went to every settlement, dwelling and camp along our path and told them all of the great festive gathering up the Sirion, 'just like Mereth Aderthad!'  
And they went. So the way was cleared, and the long column marched again, reminding us all too vividly of the last march we had made.

But there, we survived. Well, Aredhel was there, in white, of course, the brightest thing in the whole procession, truly! I myself was in dark green, like many others, and the scouts were enjoying their new role as leaders of fashion. They can be outrageous flirts at times, very impertinent! But they are so brave, and some of them are really very handsome, though I will mention no names! So, then, they were as shocked as we, in the first carriage, when the snarling wolf sprang forth, seemingly out of the grass beside us, and thrust its awful slavering jaws at the throat of poor Sámo, who quite naturally lashed out with his hooves; but Faron, who had never been keen on the harness, simply bolted.   
The guards very nearly fell off the back, Aredhel was standing up, braced against the front of the carriage, yelling at Faron to stop, the carriage hurtled over rocks, leaped over fallen trees and I hung on to the railings, trying hard not to scream. I did not! But within moments the carriage was unbalanced, and we were thrown into the air, while the carriage broke beneath us with a terrible splintering crash. 

  
We were unhurt, though we were fortunate not to have been speared by the wreckage. My dress was ruined, well, fouled by the mud, and scratched with beastly brambles. My hair was a disgrace, and thick with mud. But Aredhel looked as though nothing had happened at all, in that annoying way she has. By all the stars, there wasn’t a speck of dirt on that white dress of hers. But there, she is what she is, and we love her!   
Well, after that dreadful accident I thought that the carriage was only good for firewood, or even kindling, but no, only one wheel, and one axle were smashed, and could be mended while the rest of the column, which naturally had stopped, went on, and we could tuck in at the end, and not hold things up. 

So I saw the whole of Vinyamar pass me by, from the King at the front, to lovely Glorfindel bringing up the rear. And that is when I saw the... well, the strangest thing.  
You may say that I was in shock, a blow to the head... But no, only my wrist and ankle were hurt, from the way I landed. There are limits, even the finest athletes hurt themselves at times, and I, my dears, am no athlete!   
But I sat with Aredhel as the column passed, and she was silent, blaming herself for losing control of the horses, but nobody, really, not a single elf, blames her for that!   
I am reluctant... It was... I saw Idril Celebrindal, everyone's darling, sitting with her father, and she shone like a distant silmaril. Yes, I have seen them, long ago! But Turgon was faint and shadowy. Aredhel likewise, and the guards working on the carriage. I looked at the long column and there were others, perhaps five hundred, as bright as Idril, scattered along the procession, all the way to the back. I turned to Aredhel   
"Look at that!"  
"What?"  
"The way that Idril, and these others" I gestured along the column "shine so, while all the rest are pale shadows."  
Aredhel turned to me in horror "Am I a pale shadow"  
"Yes. Why? What ails you, my lady?"  
"And you yourself, do you shine?"  
And I lifted my hand and looked at it, and for a moment it seemed to me to be warm, bright flesh, until it slowly faded and thinned, until I could see right through my own hand. 


End file.
